Remembrance
by Pekenota14
Summary: Some things are better to be left in the past. But sometimes they come back at you, even if you don't want. That's what happens to Clint and Natasha. Whatever happened in Budapest returns once again. Single-chapter.


**I know that there are a ton of fanfictions about Clint and Natasha and whatever happened in Budapest and mine is just another one, but hey, I had the idea and had to write it down!**

**At least, I hope you enjoy it and leave a review...**

**And, already apologizing if the Hungarian sentences are all kinds of wrong. I don't know Hungarian but I tried my best in using the Internet and writing (correct?) sentences.**

* * *

Jolana (Hungarian name pronounced yaw-lah-nah)

Matvei (Russian named pronounced maht-vyay; means God's gift)

* * *

The sound of wood being chopped fills in the air of the silent woods. Looking at the chopped wood, Clint finds it to be enough. He puts aside the axe, leaning in on the tree stump and wipes the sweat of his forehead with the forearm. His veins are protruding all due to the heat that warms his body, even though New York is in its midwinter. His breath condenses once it leaves his mouth, and he doesn't mean to gasp because the cold air freezes his mouth interior, but he's tired and so he breathes heavily.

Clint grabs a bundle of wood and carries it to the small wooden house about a mile away from him. The chimney puffs up some smoke that quickly vanishing into the overcast sky. Another snowfall approaches and he has to carry all the wood inside before it. His boots bury deep in the snow, making it difficult for him to walk. He stomps his feet at the door entrance, trying to get rid of the snow that stuck to his shoes. Clint opens the door by leaning against it and immediately walks to the fireplace, dropping the chopped wood on the floor.

He supplies the fire with more wood and takes the kettle away from the fire. Luckily the water was boiled by now and he could prepare some coffee to heat up. He pulls out of the cabinet two mugs, pouring into them tablespoons of not brewed coffee and then adding in the water. Clint takes a seat at the small round table and places one of the mugs before the man standing there.

He takes a sip of the steamy coffee and breaths out, having burnt his tongue. "What are you doing here?"

"We lost contact with Agent Romanoff." Fury tells him, calmly.

Clint raises his look immediately, masterly camouflaging his panic. "Lost how? She was not on a mission." His tone of voice had already climbed up two volume tones.

"She was not on a mission that I sent her in. She was on her own." Clint threw himself back on the chair. He hated when Natasha thought she could do things on her own. It had been some quite years since the two of them work together and yet there are still times when she does these things that upset Clint to his core. "We have information on her last location. After that we lost radio contact and, apparently her position is still the same."

"Where to?" He promptly asks.

"Budapest."

"Shit!" Clint mumbled, slamming his fist on the table. "What the hell is she doing back there?"

"You haven't quite finished your work last time you were there."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Kónya is still alive."

"No," He gets up and says in disbelief. "I put a fucking bullet through his throat."

"He is alive, Barton. And he went after Jolana again."

Clint turns around, facing Fury. "Did he find Jolana or Natasha just decided to storm off to Budapest because she-"

"Kónya abducted the kid."

This made Clint freeze permanently.

Jolana was this very valuable asset to the US government. She was a brilliant scientist in Budapest that was dealing with delicate classified matters. She was giving information to the US government about everything experiment that was being done inside that lab she worked. It obviously started attracting too many fat cats' attentions and suddenly everyone is utterly interested in Jolana. Or at least interested in wiping her out. Clint and Natasha were assigned to protect her, and what it seemed to be a couple of weeks' mission turned into a fifteen month assignment.

"There's a jet ready in thirty minutes at the hangar. Be sure to be there on time."

"Wait, wait!" Clint made Fury stop before he exited the door. "How did they find the kid?"

"Barton…" Fury pointed his finger at him, mentally preparing the speech. "What happened five years ago in Budapest was the biggest mistake you and Natasha ever made. Now you've gotta live with it. I thought I had made it very clear that partners on the field cannot be partners in-"

"I'm not the only one responsible for this!" He spit out, angry.

"You're right. And I already had this pep talk with Natasha when she came to me saying she was off to Budapest. You two made the mess, make sure to clean it this time."

"I meant you!" Clint accuses. "Five years ago you didn't let us bring Jolana to the States. You're to blame too!"

Fury grabs the doorknob and tells him before leaving. "Thirty minutes on the hangar. If you don't show up, I'll send a team and I don't give a damn if you want to do like Romanoff and go on your own to Budapest."

* * *

Natasha hears the door being forced open. She closes her eyes and stays in the exact same place. Her bruises will be an advantage. Whoever walks through that door and sees her sitting still will walk to her and she'll take down as many people that walk through that door. A single person walks in, she acutely listens. Steps that dare to be silent but that are betrayed by the frigid wooden boards.

"Tasha…!" That voice.

It comes out in a whisper and it rings close to her. She hears his knees crashing down on the floor, kneeling before her. His hands immediately fly to her neck, hoping to find her heart pulsing on the tip of his fingers.

She opens her eyes.

"Tasha, you're okay?" Natasha lets out a relieved sigh once her eyes met Clint. "You're alright?" He insists, this time holding her by the upper arms and shaking her.

"Yes." She speaks with difficulty. Her lungs forced her ribs to expand and it hurt her. Not to mention that was her first time mouthing a word in hours.

"Natasha's alright." Clint speaks, pressing his finger on his ear.

"At 6 AM sharp, the jet leaves, regardless of who is on board. Agent Romanoff knows its location." Fury tells him. "Do you copy that, Barton?"

"Yes, understood."

Clint pulls off the earpiece since there would no more communication. He looks around and switches on a small lamp, being its light enough for him to see her bruises and cuts. He just then realizes he is in a kitchen. Finding a piece of cloth, he wets it on the running tap water and starts wiping the blood of her face.

"Did you find Jolana?"

"She's in the bathroom, washing off the blood."

"How is she?"

"Perturbed, obviously, but physically fine. There was much blood but very few and superficial bruises."

"How come this happen? I killed him five years ago! I put a bullet through his throat and watched him bleed."

"No you didn't. I read the report once we arrived to New York. They drugged your drink when you met with them, and so when fired the shot, you hit Kónya on the shoulder. But now he's dead for good."

"And it didn't occur you to tell me that?"

"Jolana was safe by that time and I didn't think-"

"Exactly, you didn't think. Now look at where we are!"

"Gosh, Clint, why you are so angry?"

"Why?" He puffs, upset. "You storm off to Budapest like this, didn't even tell me anything. Why?"

"If you're looking for explanations, I don't have them either, Clint. Kónya made Jolana called me, while pointing a gun to her head. She was distressed; the kid had been taken away. I needed to do something!"

"Yes, and you could have reach a phone and give me a damn call first or would it take much time?" Clint takes a deep breath, now more calmed down. He had scold Natasha enough. "And the kid?"

She points with her head to the kid balled up on the armchair, sleeping.

"A boy uh?" He says. His expression changed like a kaleidoscope.

"Carbon copy of you." She tells him.

Again he sighs and continues to wipe the blood of her face. "How is he?"

"He was scared at first, but once he saw Jolana he calmed down. And then he fell asleep. He's holding on better than all of us together."

Clint couldn't imagine how Natasha was feeling. That kid came out of her. But he wasn't feeling any better. After all, he was his kid too.

At the time, none of them wanted to see the baby. They didn't even want to know his gender. Natasha got pregnant during their mission and after that moment, Clint had to pretty much handle everything on his own. For the first couple of months that she didn't know she was pregnant, she helped him, but then he forbade her. Apart from some special cares, they didn't know what to do about the baby.

Until the mission came to an end and Natasha was days from giving birth. They assigned Jolana a new identity and found her a new place to live since Fury refused the idea of letting her going to the US, saying it'd be too risky. They stayed in Budapest until Natasha had the baby and since Jolana was so needed to pay them off for having saved her life, they handed her their baby. Natasha didn't see him as she was under anesthesia and Clint didn't want to see him either. It'd be easier like that. It was the nurses who handed Jolana this baby bundled on a blanket whose parents had just chose to leave him with someone they'd know it'd take better care of him. But it didn't mean they had never thought about that kid up until today.

Jolana gave him the name. Russian-American name, as a way of remembrance of his parents. Lucas Matvei. He was now five of age, healthy, smart and brave; he was exactly the same appearance as Clint when he was his age.

Clint was cleaning up Natasha's bruises on her face and the knuckles, but there is this particular cut that makes her squirm when he touches it.

"Let me see it, Tash." He says, gently cupping her cheek with his one hand, with the aid of his thumb placed on her chin, he makes her slowly turn her head. "It looks pretty deep." He states after gazing the cut a little above her eyebrow.

"Pistol whipped." She tells him.

"It gonna need stitches."

"I'll check the bathroom." She's about to get up when he grabs her wrist and places the cloth over the cut and makes her hold it on her hand.

Natasha knocks quietly on the door and it slightly opens. She peers and finds Jolana with both her hands grasping the sink, heads down, breathing somehow troubled.

"How are you, Jolana?" She speaks softly, to not startle the woman.

"Better now, thanks. It's Agent Barton out there, isn't it?"

"Yes." Natasha briefly says. "You should get some rest now. We're leaving soon."

Jolana nods her head and walks out the bathroom. She grabs her son in arms and sits him on her lap. He immediately accommodates to her. Clint walks to the bathroom where he finds Natasha already trying to suture herself. From her hand he takes the needle and thread and starts stitching her cut. She takes long breaths every time he pulls the thread and he tries to be as careful as he can so he doesn't hurt her more than she's already hurting.

"Alright," He speaks, cutting the thread. "it's done."

Natasha inflates her chest with air and then squirms, feeling pain again. She removes her shirt, saying to him. "I think I have a broken rib. It feels itchy."

"Hold your breath." Clint can clearly see hematomas on her torso and presses them lightly. She moans. "They're not broken, just cracked." She tries to dress up her shirt again. "If they were broken, you'd have a lung perforated, not just itchiness." Clint helps her putting on her shirt, saying. "What about now, what do we about them?"

"We're taking them, and it has to be as quick as possible before anyone else's realizes we're not actually dead."

"Fury said you'd know where the jet would be."

"Yeah, I drive us there. It takes about an hour and a half."

"We should leave now then. Before the sunrise."

Natasha nods her head and walks to the other room, to awake up Jolana, who had just fallen asleep. She tells her to carry Lucas as they're leaving.

After making their way through some dark alleys, Clint finds a car that he breaks open and hotwires. Natasha takes the steering wheel and sits on the passenger seat; Jolana climbs in the back with Lucas on her arms, still sleeping.

* * *

Natasha is half-sleeping, Jolana soundly sleeps and so still does the young Lucas. Only Clint is awake, watching them all. With some turbulence, Lucas awakes up startled. He finds Clint's eyes looking at him and panics at first but then calms down when he sees his mother sleeping right next to him.

He gets up, rubbing his eyes and peers out the window. "Where we go?"

"New York." Clint answers him. "You know where it is?"

"USA." The little boy says.

"You should go back to sleep; it will take time until we land." By the confused expression on the boy's face Clint can tell that he doesn't understand much of English, so he tries to break it down for him. "Sleep, y'know? Uhm," He quickly tries to remember the Hungarian word for sleep. "alvás?"

"Menj aludni?" (_Go to sleep?_)

Clint frowns, not quite understanding what he said. He doesn't know much Hungarian, and what he knows is somewhat forgotten. "Igen. Alvás…" (_Yes. Sleep._)

The boy eyes him tenderly, recognizing something on him. There was an unexplainable bond between the two. "You have your mother's eyes." Clint mumbles. Luckily the boy doesn't understand what he says. But it's true; looking into his eyes is the same as looking into Natasha's eyes. "Mi az Ön neve, kisfiú?" (_What's your name, little boy?_)

"Lucas. Ami a tiéd?" (_What's yours?_)

"Clint." He tells him.

Lucas falls asleep shortly after. When everything is quiet, Natasha opens her eyes and looks at Clint. He's looking at her.

"He may have been the best mistake we have made." He confesses.

Natasha agrees with him. "None of our other mistakes created such masterpiece."

The two lay their eyes on Lucas, sleeping peacefully. There's no denying that Lucas is their son. Everything about him resembles Clint and Natasha.

* * *

**Don't forget the review. Constructive reviews are always appreciated. **


End file.
